


pas de deux

by chidorinnn



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Introspection, Past Okumura Haru/Persona 5 Protagonist, Pining, Recovery, Traitor Okumura Haru, Vanilla Persona 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/pseuds/chidorinnn
Summary: The first sign that something was wrong was that no one was panicking, that Akira had been taken away. The Phantom Thieves were many things, but subtle was not one of them – it was expected that Niijima, Morgana, and maybe Kitagawa would be able to retain their composure, but it was out of the ordinary for Sakamoto and Takamaki to be so calm.And for reasons that nobody thought to question just yet: Okumura wasn’t there with them.So Goro moved on his own, painfully aware of the target on his back. Their calm confirmed one thing: that they had expected a betrayal tonight. Akira being detained was evidence that such a betrayal hadhappened– but a singular question remained: who was the traitor?It was a question none of them were thinking of, and the reason for that was clear: they all believed Goro to be that traitor, even though he had no plans of betraying anyone that night. It meant that Akira was in more danger than any of them had expected – but they wouldn’t listen to Goro, if he were to tell them. Not when they looked at him and smiled at him and laughed with him, and expected only treachery in return.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Niijima Sae, Akechi Goro & Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Akechi Goro & Sakura Futaba, Akechi Goro & Takamaki Ann, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 204
Collections: 21 plus akeshuake server yuletide 2020 event, Quality Persona Fics





	pas de deux

**Author's Note:**

> for the 21+ akeshuake discord server yuletide prompt: day #10 - "found family"
> 
> this is an idea that has _refused_ to leave me alone since vanilla persona 5 was first released, and i hope i did it justice :') on that note, please keep in mind that this was written with vanilla persona 5 in mind, and not royal.
> 
> happy reading!

They schedule the celebration on a Sunday, a little more than a week after Sae-san’s Palace winks out of existence. It’s something of a tradition, Goro has come to understand – a high note to end on after weeks of bitter, exhausting work. They infiltrate a Palace, steal its owner’s heart, and wait for that change to be reflected in reality; then, they celebrate.

It’s different with Sae-san, though, so they can celebrate sooner than they otherwise would. This is supposed to be a good thing.

So he wakes to his alarm that Sunday morning, tangled in a blanket on Takamaki’s couch. It’s the safest place for him to stay, which isn’t saying much – of all the Phantom Thieves, she’s the least likely to be _monitored_ , and Sae-san has been generous enough, letting him stay with her those first few nights, but he won’t impose on her further.

Takamaki won’t be awake for another few hours; even on school days, he’s up at least an hour earlier than she is. It’s a nice apartment, all things considered – spacious, with no one there to bother them or ask why she’s suddenly staying with someone else who is not family and does not fit the profile of any of her friends that regularly visit.

Goro makes her breakfast, because it’s the least he can do in return. It’s not very much – just eggs and rice mixed together and some cut up fruits to eat on the side – but in the mornings, when Takamaki sleepily drags her feet into the kitchen and sees it all there without her having to prepare it herself, she smiles at him. It makes for a more pleasant morning than he’s had in years.

She’s yawning by the time she makes her way in. Goro wordlessly hands her a mug of watery instant coffee – he’s done his best, but there’s only so much he can do with the brand that she insists on buying – and watches as she takes it from him in a quick, fluid motion. “Thanks,” she mumbles, smiling as she cups her hands around the mug and brings it closer to her face.

It usually takes her another half hour to fully wake up – but today, it only takes her about fifteen minutes. “Did you see the group chat?” she asks.

“No, I haven’t really looked at my phone yet,” he replies, because moments like this where he doesn’t have to worry about communicating with others in some capacity are few and far in between; he’ll take what little he can get.

“Someone’s going to have to go grocery shopping,” says Takamaki. “I could do it, but I can’t make it to Leblanc until five.”

In any circumstance, this is where Goro would expect someone else to chime in quickly – if Akira or Sakura is unable to do it, then Sakamato or Niijima. But Goro has no schedule these days; he can’t afford to have one because that would make him _predictable_.

“I could go grocery shopping,” he says before he can think twice about it.

“Great,” says Takamaki, attention immediately diverted to whatever she’s typing on her phone. Seconds later, Goro’s phone buzzes on the dining table.

They part ways after breakfast – Takamaki heading for the elevator, and Goro taking the stairs. He makes it a point to meander, takes his time with each step – it’s not safe yet, so it’s a bad idea to be seen with her too much, out in the open.

As he waits for the train, he scrolls through the messages he’s missed since the previous night. There’s Kitagawa, pondering an octopus – Takamaki and Sakamoto engaging him in all seriousness – Sakura interjecting with heavily edited pictures of cephalopods – Niijima offering random bits of aquatic trivia that Goro knows she picked up in cram school – Akira responding with just one or two words, less often than he otherwise would, but sounding no worse for wear.

The group chat prattles on as if nothing had happened – as if it was always supposed to be Goro here, part of it, and not someone else that they once thought they could trust.

* * *

(This was the plan: after sending a calling card to push her over the edge onto high alert, the Phantom Thieves would storm Sae Niijima’s Palace, where they would attempt to steal her treasure. There would be a fight – there always was a fight in heists like this, and they’d prepared for this inevitability. Then, upon the theft of her treasure, the Palace would collapse in on itself, forcing them all to run. For days or maybe weeks afterward, the real Sae-san would be rather lethargic and weak, until the change of heart took root.

Whatever this was, it was not according to plan.

In all honesty, the plan had gone off the rails quite some time ago – the security guards patrolling the casino weren’t supposed to be able to touch them in the real world. Akira wasn’t supposed to be taken away, imprisoned in a room deep underground where parallel spheres of consciousness blurred together. The real Sae-san wasn’t supposed to see him like this – she shouldn’t have been able to materialize here at all.

The first sign that something was wrong was that no one was panicking, that Akira had been taken away. The Phantom Thieves were many things, but subtle was not one of them – it was expected that Niijima, Morgana, and maybe Kitagawa would be able to retain their composure, but it was out of the ordinary for Sakamoto and Takamaki to be so calm.

And for reasons that nobody thought to question just yet: Okumura wasn’t there with them.

So Goro moved on his own, painfully aware of the target on his back. Their calm confirmed one thing: that they had expected a betrayal tonight. Akira being detained was evidence that such a betrayal had _happened_ – but a singular question remained: who was the traitor?

It was a question none of them were thinking of, and the reason for that was clear: they all believed Goro to be that traitor, even though he had no plans of betraying anyone that night. It meant that Akira was in more danger than any of them had expected – but they wouldn’t listen to Goro, if he were to tell them. Not when they looked at him and smiled at him and laughed with him, and expected only treachery in return.

He tried not to resent them for it, because he hadn’t given them too many reasons to trust him in the first place – but it stung all the same, as he prowled the corridors on his own, searching for a threat that only he knew existed, that he couldn’t call on them for aid. It hadn’t been according to plan, but over the past month, he’d come to rely on them perhaps more than he should have – on Sakura’s insight, on Niijima’s battle strategies, on Kitagawa’s fury, on Sakamoto and Takamaki’s raw passion, on Morgana’s guidance. He could call on none of them now, as he took out the security guards one after the other, not killing them but doing just enough to them that their real-world counterparts would be left a bit disoriented for a while.

He resolutely did not think about what it meant that Akira trusted him so little, after all this time – but he’d be the biggest hypocrite to take issue with that. After all: he hardly trusted Akira, either.)

* * *

The grocery list is as follows:

  1. Sweet rice flour
  2. Sugar
  3. Potato starch
  4. Red bean paste
  5. Ice cream
  6. Matcha powder
  7. Barley tea



Goro frowns at it as he waits in line at the convenience store in Shibuya. It’s not that weird a shopping list, all things considered, but a whole celebratory meal can’t be made from just this much.

He’s been to some celebratory meals before – never as the person being celebrated, and yet included all the same. Such events always consisted of men in stiff, stuffy suits, speaking on political and economic theory with little regard for how any of it affected the people they claimed to be speaking for. Women were rarely included in such celebrations; if they ever were, it was always in the explicit role as the Wife, or the Daughter, or even the Entertainer – always an aside to the men at the center, and never quite welcome to join them there.

… his mother would have never been included in such celebrations, even in that limited capacity. Goro knows this, is intimately familiar with the reality of it – it still makes him seethe, when he sees that man smiling at a woman closer to Goro’s age than his own, telling her all that someone in her position would want to hear from a man of his station, even if he’ll never deliver on any of it… even if his attention will inevitably ruin that woman.

So: it will be different with the Phantom Thieves. For all of their presumed treachery, for all of the reasons Goro had so meticulously outlined to hold them at a distance and never trust them, they’re _different_.

So he picks up everything detailed on the grocery list – and because he’ll be going back to Takamaki’s apartment afterwards, he also picks up some fruit purees that he knows she likes with her breakfast toast. There’s also some unagi bentos on sale – and Goro has no need of them, really; he’s fortunate enough to not have to worry about acquiring food, despite his situation. But not every Phantom Thief can say the same and for better or worse, they’ve decided to include Goro in their team despite all conceivable reasons not to – which is why he finds himself calling Kitagawa before he can think twice about it.

It goes to voicemail on the first try, but that could mean anything with Kitagawa – so Goro tries again. This time, the call connects. “Akechi-kun!” Kitagawa greets him far too loudly, betraying the _subtlety_ Sae-san had insisted on when they last parted ways. His voice is just a touch breathless – Goro’s caught him in the middle of something. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

All at once, the words dry up in his throat. There was a reason for the call, but it rings hollow the more he thinks about it. It’s built on a presumption that he would be welcome here in this space, that he’d been arrogant enough to assume.

“Akechi-kun? Is everything all right?”

He’s known Kitagawa for only a short while, but they’ve fought together between spheres of consciousness. Still, whatever notions of friendship that lie between them have only truly existed for a matter of days. “There’s a sale,” he chokes out. “Unagi bentos. Do you want me to pick some up for you?”

Kitagawa is quiet for a long moment, and it’s enough for doubt to come rushing in; he’s _overstepped_.

“I, ah…” says Kitagawa, haltingly. “That… That’s all right. You don’t have to go out of your way for me like this.”

“It’s not out of the way,” says Goro. “I’m already at the store, so I thought—”

“It’s really all right—”

“I’m not going to _poison_ you, Kitagawa.” He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. It’s too much, too soon – not something to be joked about even at the best of times.

“It’s really all right,” Kitagawa repeats, gently, “but I appreciate the thought, Akechi-kun.”

… and that’s it. The call ends awkwardly, anticlimactically, and it leaves Goro leaving unsteady – but there was no animosity in Kitagawa’s voice, towards the end. Of this much, at least, he can be certain.

* * *

(Betrayal came to the Phantom Thieves in the form of a black mask. This was a truth that was clearly meant to be kept close to the core of the group, to which Goro was not privy – but the Phantom Thieves were many things, and _subtle_ was not one of them. Goro found out all the same.

He’d donned a black mask himself, before – for work he’d volunteered for years ago, and had no choice but to continue. Turning on his employer required an intricate strategy, one which would enable Goro to safely extract himself from his orbit without him even considering retaliating – because Goro knew too much. He knew too much about the image this man worked so hard to cultivate, and what went on behind the scenes to sharpen that image. There was no way Goro would be able to exist in this world with that knowledge, unless he were to be irrevocably bound to that man’s will.

… but the Phantom Thieves could be an out. This, Goro believed – because somehow, they were able to find a use for that other world that did not end in death and destruction. They kept using it to that end, over and over as people’s hearts turned one by one.

He disposed of his last target, as ordered, and then washed his hands of the whole business. Then, he made himself known to the Phantom Thieves, laid bare all that he knew, and waited for them to react. They welcomed him into their fold, sure – but in the month that followed, Goro could tell that they wouldn’t let him get close. Not like they did the others.

It was his own fault, really – an ultimatum, no matter the reason for it, was no way to make friends. He knew there were conversations taking place to which he was barred access. They didn’t trust him, plain and simple – and even Akira, in all their months of maybe friendship, maybe something else entirely, couldn’t touch that.

But Goro would work with them anyway. He would do so earnestly, because to simply change someone’s heart without ripping apart the very fabric of their existence was not something he thought possible, before. If he could see it in action just once, he could turn it on those that employed him – and then maybe, just maybe, that man would fall to his knees, sobbing and begging for the slightest bit of forgiveness just like each of the Phantom Thieves’ previous targets, and Goro would deny it to him. It was always supposed to be a pipe dream; not once, before now, did he think it would be _possible_.

–but even without the treachery they all expected from Goro, betrayal came anyway. It came in the form of a black mask, donned by someone they once considered a close friend.

In the space between worlds, as spheres of consciousness blurred and melted into one another, Haru Okumura turned, slowly, to face him. “Tell me, Crow,” she seethed. “Why are you here?”)

* * *

It’s close to lunchtime when he finally makes it to Leblanc. Sakura-san’s closed the café for the day, on account of it being Akira’s first full one back in his old room. Goro sets the grocery bags down and pulls out his phone to text Akira that he’s here. Then, he waits – far longer than it should take a healthy, uninjured person to come down the stairs and unlock the door.

Akira’s still several shades too pale, but he’s _upright_. The cuts and bruises that had littered his face the last time Goro saw him in person have faded, but the dark circles remain stubbornly fixed under his eyes, and he’s wheezing a little from the exertion of being on his feet for longer than a few minutes. _You look terrible_ , Goro just barely stops himself from saying – because Akira is _trying_. What kind of comrade, _friend_ , would Goro be to knock him down like that?

Akira smiles, a soft and unmasked thing unlike anything Goro has seen from him. “You came,” he says, as if he can barely believe it himself.

“You asked,” says Goro, bluntly – but he’s tired of lying to himself. He won’t deny it, that Akira’s smile begets a sense of _comfort_ that makes his control start to slip. Akira reaches for the grocery bags, but Goro grabs them first; it’s not like they’re all that heavy, but Akira shouldn’t be straining himself further.

He sets the bags down on the countertop, as Akira locks the door behind him – and Goro has never seen this café so quiet and still. Akira slumps into one of the booths with a weary exhale, his eyes drifting closed for a moment. “You know,” says Goro, “we could always reschedule the celebration. I’m sure the others would understand.”

Akira shakes his head. “We’ve put it off long enough.”

Goro hums, and it is awkward because they haven't talked about that day. They haven't talked about what it means that for the entire month Goro had spent with them, thinking himself one of their own, the Phantom Thieves had seen him as an enemy. They had been so sure that he would turn on them, planned everything around that crucial moment — only to leave themselves wide open when it was someone else who betrayed them instead.

(And if Goro closes his eyes, he can still feel the weight of Akira's body in his arms. It should have been easy going with Sae-san also there supporting his weight, but Goro couldn't focus on that; all he could think, then, was that _this should never have happened_. Akira should never have been hurt so badly by someone he considered a close friend. Akira shouldn't still be facing the consequences of trusting that friend today.)

Akira chuckles, a fragile, broken thing. "Hey, don't ruin this for me," he says; there's no bite to his words, but Goro hears it all the same. "I've been looking forward to this all week."

Inhaling deeply, Akira staggers to his feet and makes his way to the grocery bags. "Thanks for picking all of this up, by the way," he says. He reaches into one of the bags and pulls out the rice flour, letting it fall on the countertop with a loud _thwack_. "We," he says in his best Joker voice, which Goro doesn't tell him is far too haggard for it to sound anywhere near as dramatic and magnanimous as he's used to hearing in the Metaverse, "are going to make some mochi. Pass me the sugar and potato starch?"

Goro reaches into the other grocery bag and pulls out the sugar and potato starch, setting them down far more gently, before taking the ice cream and heading for the refrigerator. "Why mochi?"

Akira makes his way behind the counter, and rummages through the cabinets. "Every year, around New Years," he says, "my mom's sister comes to visit from Osaka. It's something they did with my grandmother all the time, growing up."

—and it's not that Goro knows Akira very well, or for very long, but he doesn't have to look too closely at this cafe he calls home, the attic above it where he lives, to understand that this is a tradition to which Akira no longer has access. And Goro might not know very much about where Akira comes from, or what his life was like before he moved to Tokyo, but he knows that these traditions, small and insignificant as they may be, tether him.

It's no insignificant thing, that Akira's sharing these traditions with them now. It's no insignificant thing, that this will be the first year Akira will be denied in partaking in this tradition with his family, and that he will be spending that time resting and recuperating from an ordeal which should never have happened in the first place.

"You make it from scratch?" asks Goro.

"It's actually really easy," says Akira, "but we need to get the dough ready first. We need to start that process now, if it's going to be ready by the time the others get here."

Akira pulls out a series of measuring cups from one of the drawers. Then, he tears open the packet of rice flour, and measures it cup by cup into a large bowl that he's set by the sink.

And though Akira doesn't say it aloud, Goro knows that it should be someone else here with Akira, and not him. He won't say it aloud, because these things have never needed to be voiced, among the Phantom Thieves. They won't talk about this betrayal, just like they didn't talk about what it means that Goro is here with them when they'd spent the entirety of the past month finalizing a plan that hinged on the confirmation that it would be him to turn on them in the end — or rather, if they did talk about it, then it was never with Goro.

... had any one of them tried to talk to Akira, about this friend?

(But they’re not here now – only Goro is. Why any of them trusted him to be alone with their leader, he can’t say – but he won’t waste this opportunity.)

“Tell me about Okumura,” says Goro. “I… didn’t know her all that well, before all of this.”

Akira looks at him then, wide-eyed. There’s something dangerously unsteady in his gaze, his eyes shining with something that might be tears – frightening in his utter failure to mask them.

In a quiet voice, Akira tells him about his senpai and the safe, quiet space she’d cultivated for him on Shujin’s rooftop months before she knew a thing about Phantom Thievery.

* * *

(He didn’t know Okumura all that well, before all of this – but if there was one thing that became abundantly clear in the moments it took for her to register him as a threat, one thing he could confirm about her was that she hit _hard_.

He deserved it, to be perfectly honest. Calling her plan half-baked and foolish was perhaps a bit much – but there was an ice-cold glint to her eyes behind the black mask she wore. Goro knew this look, was intimately familiar with it – he’d worn it himself on more than one occasion; it was what got him through the past few years.

Though it pained him to admit it, Okumura came well-prepared. The security guards dressed in all black, all hired help that she was able to acquire through her father’s enterprise, were a nice touch – they wore their masks just well enough that, to the untrained eye, they could almost be mistaken for the kind of law enforcement the rest of the Phantom Thieves had been expecting with a betrayal from Goro. All they would have had to do was follow the script laid out for them in an authoritative voice; he didn’t doubt that Sae-san would have no trouble picking up on it in any other circumstance but this, so soon after they all had toyed with her internal psyche so relentlessly.

–but as hard as Okumura could hit, Milady hit harder. She spoke of her father, robbed of his life so cruelly despite the Phantom Thieves’ promises that he would be all right. She had it all backwards – the only person to blame for her father’s death was Goro – but he couldn’t focus on that now. If she intended to put an end to Akira’s life that night, that Goro would do all that he could to stand in her way.

Milady blew through Robin Hood’s defenses like they were nothing – but Loki? Loki could dish out just as well as Milady could. Goro only said that he would no longer do the bidding of his employers; he never claimed that he would discard the Persona that did the bulk of that work.

A hint of revulsion flickered across Okumura’s face before it steeled over once more. _Good._ )

* * *

Akira starts flagging about an hour in. He’s far paler than he had been when Goro first arrived here, and he’s wheezing on nearly every exhale. It’s hard work, forming the mochi with his hands – he’s clearly not up to the strain of it yet, though the worst thing Goro could do would be to tell him that.

… but Goro won’t lie to him. “Why do you insist on doing this to yourself?” he asks. “Go take a nap.”

Akira shakes his head stubbornly. “Can’t,” he wheezes. “There’s too much to do before the others get here.”

It’s just about the stupidest thing Goro’s heard all day – but it makes a surprising amount of sense, why it had been Sakura to text the group with the grocery list that morning. “That’s what the rest of us are here for, isn’t it?” he asks. “Whatever it is that needs to be done, delegate.”

“I’m not…” Akira exhales sharply, before pinching some potato starch and coating the palms of his hands with it. Then, he presses both palms into the mochi before him. “I’m _fine_. I can do this.”

Goro sighs. “Of course you can,” he says. “Then you can crash right in the middle of this big, fancy celebration.” It’s a low blow, admittedly; Goro regrets it only a little, when Akira winces. “They won’t be here for another few hours,” he continues. “If you sleep for an hour, you’ll still have time to get all of this ready.”

Akira narrows his eyes at him. “Thanks, _Mona_ ,” he groans. With an exaggerated yawn, he stretches his arms behind him, cracking his back – but he doesn’t argue further. He heads to the sink to wash his hands, and then discards his potato starch-covered apron. He stumbles on his way to the stairs – and Goro doesn’t comment on it, but he does speed to his side, take his arm, and sling it over his shoulders. That Akira doesn’t fight him on this is a miracle in itself.

Slowly, they make their way to the attic. With each step, Akira leans just a little bit further into him – though whether it’s on purpose, Goro can’t say. He won’t let go regardless.

Eventually, Akira finally sinks wearily into his mattress. His eyes fall shut almost immediately, as if it’s too much effort to keep them open for a second longer – and if he’s awake to notice when Goro takes the blanket and drapes it over him as gently as he can, then he says nothing.

* * *

(As Goro lay crumpled against the wall, bleeding out of a gaping wound in his side, he wondered just what it was about Akira Kurusu that inspired such an intensity of feeling. Okumura had said that it wasn’t personal, what she was trying to do here – but targeting the leader singularly, when dismantling her father’s Palace was a joint effort that she herself had also participated in, indicated something else entirely.

In one of the questionable romance novels his mother left littered around their tiny apartment, all those many years ago, Goro once read that hatred and love were two sides to the same coin. One could not exist without the possibility of the other, and both were born from a sense of intense _caring_. Haru Okumura hated Akira Kurusu because she _cared_ – because whatever affection she once had for him went beyond the camaraderie that held the Phantom Thieves together as a group.

She had loved him, and that love had drowned into hatred when she became convinced that he betrayed her so utterly. Goro had hated him, but it wasn’t hatred that pushed him to his feet against every ache and burn that would keep him rooted to the spot.

He had to _move_. He couldn’t waste another moment here.

Akira was in danger – that much was clear – but it stung, to think that the danger existed simply because Akira had expected that danger to come from Goro. Did he truly think so poorly of him, for that to be the most logical conclusion? Did these past months matter to him at all?

… and yet, Goro gripped his injured side and trudged onward anyway. Despite everything, not doing so wasn’t an option. “Oracle,” he tried, his voice coming out as a shameful, tired rasp. “Oracle, I know you can hear me.”

“Crow!” Sakura replied, her voice oddly shrill. “I—Listen, I can’t talk right now. Joker’s—Joker’s in danger.”

“I’m aware,” he replied, “and I’m headed to his location now.” Pain pulsated through his side, and he bit back a groan as he staggered into the nearest wall. “I don’t suppose you have a recovery spell to spare…?”

She remained silent for a long moment – but then: “Y-Yeah, of course.” In an instant, cool healing magic washed over him. The wound in his side stitched itself closed, though the throbbing ache had yet to fade. “Is that better? Do you need another one?”

“No, that should be enough,” Goro answered, bracing himself against the wall to straighten. “Thank you.”

“Y-Yeah, that’s… good. Thanks.”

Sakura fell silent, and Goro continued his pursuit. Okumura left no trail, but it was obvious all the same, which route she took – Loki could smell her bloodlust from kilometers away.

“Listen, Crow…” said Sakura, slowly. “I’m sorry we doubted you.”

Goro slowed, crouching to the floor by the wall to peer around the next corner. The corridor was empty, though voices carried – not safe, then. “No,” he said, quietly. “You were right to doubt me. I… you were right, about the black mask. Just not this one time.”

“Th-That’s…” Sakura swallowed, hard. “You’ll tell us later, right?”

“Yes,” answered Goro. “I owe you that much.”

At the end of the hall, Sae-san exited a room. With a frown, she peered down at her phone.

“They’re in there,” said Oracle, shakily. “I’ll be here, okay? I’ll back you up.”

Goro didn’t deserve it – but Akira did.

“I’m going in,” he said, and _moved_.)

* * *

Twenty minutes into Akira’s nap, the bell attached to Leblanc’s front door chimes. “Helloooooo,” Sakura hollers. “Would it kill you to answer your phone?” she says as she thunders up the stairs. “Sojiro’s been a total _wreck_ —”

She stops dead in her tracks, when she sees Goro there. “Sorry,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “I noticed his phone going off, but I didn’t think it was appropriate to go through it.”

Sakura gives him a long stare, and Goro does his very best not to fidget. That she doesn’t rail against him now, like Okumura had railed against Akira, is a miracle in itself. “I didn’t think you’d stick around after dropping off the groceries,” she says, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shuffles into the attic.

Goro shrugs. “He seemed like he could use the company.”

“No, that’s a good thing,” she retorts. “He’s been going stir crazy lately. We figured he’d appreciate having some time to himself without us _hovering_ , but…”

–but it was a risk, to leave Akira alone now – not necessarily because he was still in physical danger. “He seemed overly tired,” says Goro, even though he knows they won’t ask him. “Not… not the point where we need to cancel the celebration, or anything. Actually, he was adamant that it continue. It’s just…”

“It’s just that canceling it now would probably wreck him, huh?” asks Sakura, smiling wryly. “Yeah, I get that. He does need his rest, though.”

Goro waves his hand in Akira’s general direction. “He’s resting now.”

“Honestly, it’s a miracle you got him to agree to that much,” says Oracle, plopping onto the couch and scrolling through her phone.

And then: they don’t talk about it. It’s not a conversation that Goro’s looking forward to having, though he’s aware that it needs to happen all the same. It’s hard to force his thoughts into a coherent order on this – about what it means that, at fifteen, that man saw him as a weapon to be aimed at those he perceived as a threat – what it meant that the blood of that man’s enemies were on Goro’s hands, and not his. He hasn’t known Sakura all that long, but he knows that this conversation will be awful for her – but it’s one she deserves all the same.

“Where’s Morgana?” he asks, in a pathetic attempt at small talk. “I figured he’d be glued to his side.”

“He’s over at Ann’s place,” Sakura answers. “Sorry, you’re probably going to be sleeping in cat hair tonight.”

Goro shrugs. “Not the worst place I’ve slept, really.”

For a moment, he worries that maybe he’s overstepped – but then Sakura barks out a laugh. “Same, dude.” She sets her phone face-down next to her, and pulls her knees to her chest. “Listen… things have been crazy this past week, a-and I know we still need to talk, but… Can we just… not do it today? I just want this celebration to be _normal_ , you know? For Akira.”

… except, it can’t really be _normal_ – not when Okumura won’t be there, and not when the memory of her fury refuses to fade. “Agreed,” Goro sighs. “I want you to understand that this isn’t me just… ignoring it, okay? It’s just… you’re not going to like what I have to say. That’s all.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Would you be mad if I told you that I kind of have an idea what it is already?”

He wouldn’t put it past her, to be able to find out; what comes as a surprise, though, is that she isn’t as furious with him as Okumura was with Akira. Perhaps that’s a testament to who Sakura is as a person, that she’s willing to overlook such a huge transgression for something so insipid as a victory celebration. Perhaps it’s the collective weight of everything that’s happened – a blatant refusal to contend with another betrayal, so soon after the last one.

… or maybe this, too, is for Akira’s sake – because however much she hates Goro for what he’s done, it pales in comparison to how much she cares for Akira.

“Trust me when I say I don’t have a right to get mad about this,” says Goro, deliberately lightly. “Just know that whatever your judgment will be after our discussion, I’ll accept it. You have my word.”

Sakura looks at him for a long moment – and then her gaze drops back down to her phone.

* * *

(It was slow going, getting Akira out. It took the combined efforts of both Goro and Sae-san to keep him upright, his arms draped over each of their shoulders as the three of them slowly made their way out of the facility.

Whatever had happened to Akira, happened in the space between one sphere of consciousness and the next. For whatever reason, neither Sakura’s recovery spells nor the scant healing items lining Goro’s pockets could touch the bone-deep pallor of his skin and the low-grade fever that had sprouted in response to whatever those fake security guards had injected him with.

This entire ordeal’s toll went deeper than that, though – Goro hadn’t been there to hear the entirety of Okumura’s rant, but it was clear all the same how deeply her words had cut. Akira wouldn’t fight her on this – he cared about her too much. Goro, though – Goro still had energy to spare. Barely anything, but it was enough to drive her into a retreat.

“So you were in on this too,” said Sae-san, wearily. “Why am I not surprised?”

He laughed mirthlessly, pasting on the same grin he’d worn for her countless times before. “Sorry for the trouble,” he said, though he wasn’t sorry at all.

“I do have one question, though,” she said. “When did you come into this power? With Kurusu and the rest, it was within this past year… but I can’t shake the feeling that you’ve known about this for a lot longer than that.”

… how was he supposed to answer that? It’s not like he told her anything at all, and what little Akira knew should be nowhere near sufficient to piece it all together – and yet it was entirely possible that Sae-san could do just that.

“For better or worse,” said Goro, with more calm than he felt, “I was tasked with ending the Phantom Thieves tonight. And I refused.”

Sae-san hummed. “Then I suppose it’s unsafe for you to return to your apartment after this. Am I wrong?”

He laughed again, just a touch hysterical. “I think it would be safe to assume that that’d be a death sentence, yes.”

“Then you’ll stay with me,” she said.

“And put a target on your back?” he retorted. “I don’t think so.”

“There’s _already_ a target on my back,” she said. “At least this way, both of us can rest a little easier tonight.”

… how very logical. Typical.

“Listen,” said Sae-san, through gritted teeth. “Whatever it was that they asked you to do, however long they’ve been asking you to do this for them… it’s _wrong_ , okay?”

Goro sighed, wearily. “Sae-san, you don’t understand—”

“No, I think I do,” she said. “This power of yours… it’s _yours_ , okay? It doesn’t belong to those people you worked for… and it was wrong of them to use you like this.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “Presuming I didn’t do so _willingly_.”

“And what would have happened if you refused?” she retorted. “You said it yourself – going home tonight would be a death sentence for you.”

… and she was right, of course. He hated it when she did that.

“You deserve a way out too, Akechi.”

… he’d long given up on the prospect of anyone just _giving_ him that way out; it was why he was here, clawing his own way out of the hole he’d dug for himself years ago. “I don’t know what to do from here,” he confessed. If he said it quietly enough, maybe Sakura wouldn’t hear it. “I… didn’t plan that far ahead.”

And what he couldn’t bring himself to say just yet: he didn’t think he’d make it this far at all. The thought of surviving just to this point, let alone past it, was not a possibility he had considered.

The smile Sae-san gave him, then, was a gentle one – far gentler than anything he’d seen from an adult in a long, long time. “Then we’ll just have to take it one step at a time, won’t we?”)

* * *

Akira sleeps through the first alarm, then the next. Half an hour before the third is supposed to go off, Sakura springs to her feet. “Ryuji’s here!” she says with the first bit of genuine cheer Goro’s heard from her since before Sae-san’s Palace first winked out of existence. She bounds down the stairs loudly enough that the thud of her footsteps rouses Akira, just a little.

He groans, his brow pinching as he frowns. “What time is it…?” he mumbles, groggily.

“About four-thirty,” Goro answers. Akira doesn’t need the extra help to sit up, but Goro helps him anyway, letting one arm hover by his back and letting him grip the other to lever himself upright.

Akira frowns at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You were supposed to wake me up hours ago.”

Goro huffs out a laugh. “In my defense, I was bullied into letting you sleep for longer.”

Gripping Goro’s arm tightly, Akira shoves the blanket off of him and swings his legs over the side of the mattress. It’s slow going, getting him to stand, and Goro takes note of every wince and hiss of pain – Sakura would want a record of that later. “Is everyone here already?” asks Akira.

“Just Sakamoto, I think,” says Goro. “And Sakura got here a while back.”

Akira smiles, and for a moment, Goro wonders if it will all be okay after all – if this celebration will go off without a hitch, if Sae-san will be okay after everything they put her and her Palace through, if Morgana will accept him as a fellow Phantom Thief after everything, if Sakura will be able to look him in the eye after he tells her the truth of what he’s been doing these past few years. He’ll go back to Takamaki’s apartment when it’s over, and maybe she’ll be all right with him being there when Sakamoto comes over to visit. Maybe things won’t be awkward with Kitagawa, and maybe he’ll stumble onto a similar sense of _normalcy_ with Niijima as he did with her sister.

–he doesn’t _know_ , though; he never once thought he’d make it to this point.

Akira grips his arm tightly. “Are you ready?” he asks.

Goro swallows, and nods. Whatever happens from here – he’ll face it. He’s strong enough to do that much.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :)


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